Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Friday, April 8, 2011
- sheer clothing - dresses and shirts especially
- leather and lace together
- the ''torn up'' look. i have to do that whole pretend-to-eat thing for a few weeks before i can rock this for summer but i'm looking forward to seriously slashing some shit up.
- faking diy. i'm terrible at that shit but i do what i can.
- black dresses - seriously i have so many it doesn't even make sense and every time i find one that's just a little bit more interesting than something i might already have i have to buy it. it is ridiculous
- chapstick. i have five different kinds of chapstick in my purse tell me how necessary that is
- search and destroy (above)
something i wrote for intro fiction that has no place on this blog but its my blog and i'll do what i want (goshh)
I had no doubt that she would have been a girl, and that I would have named her Lola Harlequin in the way that most young girls think that if they had a baby they would name it something like a fantasy or a dream and then they do and then the poor child is forever marked as a mistake in the back of a pick-up truck or in a breathless bedroom, silent so the front door can interrupt. And I, in literary conceit, with no drop of Spanish in my blood, would have called her Lolita. With a name like that something terrible could happen to the poor thing, but I wouldn’t have thought of it like that. And her daddy would have left and I wouldn’t have cared because I’d have had my Lo. Lolalitalilola.
I would have dropped out and everyone would have talked but no more than they did anyway. I would have endured the disappointment of my family, endured knowing that I was the promising child no longer. I would have locked myself in with the sweet thing and touched her little fingers and little toes and gone nowhere in life but I would have had something with me that had my blood in it. But, with no tears, I got in the car with my parents and drove to the north end of the state and left what was already made of little Lo there, without ever knowing her face.
There are some afternoons that are greyer than most, when I ask all the questions that will never make it past my lips, when I tell myself all of the things I’ve never told anyone. Her father is miles away and his face and name are like acid at the back of my tongue. I am here, and I am now, and there is rain coming down in little specks that dot the pages of the book I am trying to read, and I smile at the sky because it is like London.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
- lots of compliments and positive attention. most of the complements i get are from older people and children, which is not at all what i was expecting, but i love it!
- it's fairly unique and makes a statement.
- i'm comfortable going out without makeup with my red hair. i don't know why that is but i embrace it.
- it feels more me than anything else is.
- it's like a beacon. if anyone's having trouble finding me even with my massive height, the hair will help.
- basically everything i rest my head on turns pink, which is really annoying. i feel like i didn't have this problem as much with manic panic as i do with special effects, which i guess makes sense because of the clear difference in color payoff. i wish this wasn't the case though. it could be because my hair has a lot of natural oils, but i'm still trying to figure out a quick fix for this.
- while some people think my hair is very on-trend, some people think it means i am a vagrant or a hooligan, and treat me as such.
- something about bright red/pink hair seems to scream to men, "lookatmelookatmelookatmybutt. make a comment. MAKE A SEXUAL COMMENT. DO IT."
- the maintenance, while not a huge deal, is definitely a lot more than what i had to do when i had brown hair. granted, i've never really been one to spend much time on my hair.